


The  Beach  House

by babydraco



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Alternate Universe - Romantic Comedy, Annoyed Sam Wilson, Bratting, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Confused Sam Wilson, Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, M/M, Protective Sam Wilson, mentions of Bucky/Rumlow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-25 08:59:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6188317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babydraco/pseuds/babydraco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When  Sam Wilson's  friend Steve  lends him the family cottage so he can finish studying for exams,   Sam is not expecting to have to  share the house with  Steve's  annoying little brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sam had been so looking forward to his weekend alone on the beach. He had med school exams to study for, and Steve had offered the use of his cottage in the Hamptons, which had been sitting empty since the plane crash. So he drove out there on Thursday night, hoping to stay until Monday afternoon, then head back to his apartment to rest up for the test on Tuesday. Steve had insisted Sam could keep the key and go out there any time he wanted for as long as he wanted but that felt like taking too much advantage. 

It was March, not exactly prime beach weather, and threatening to rain when Sam made the three hour trip across Long Island. The Barnes cottage was in the newer, more contemporary part of the coastal community, and fairly small, Steve said it only had four bedrooms and one and a half baths, but it was right near the water. Sam noticed a medium sized in ground swimming pool and a backyard garden as his car rolled over the gravel driveway of the gray shingled midcentury style home. Sam flicked on the lights , checked for any malfunctions or security breaches, opened the windows to let out the musty smell, and then unpacked his textbooks and toiletries. The biggest decorating influence on the house had obviously been Steve's mom, the linens and upholstery were chintzy and doilytastic and they had a large collection of stuff made out of shells. He found a plastic binder full of printed delivery menus from local restaurants in a kitchen drawer, and left it on the center island to peruse when he got hungrier. Pizza, probably. You don't have to think about pizza. He went for a run, took a shower, and then changed his mind about the pizza and drove into town to buy groceries and pick up a healthier dinner. He studied for a couple of hours after getting back to the cottage, and then he went to bed. Some time in the middle of the night, he heard a soft series of thumps and creaks. But the wind had picked up, so he figured it was just that, branches and stuff hitting the siding. And the car he thought he heard, well, it wasn't as densely populated as Brooklyn but it's not like they didn't have neighbors a couple of hundred feet away. 

The morning dawned a little brighter and warmer. Sam went for a jog on the damp roads and got back to the house around 0900. He trudged to the kitchen for his usual after jog orange juice and protein bar, wondering why he smelled bacon. And he stopped dead in the doorway at the sight of the guy standing with his back to Sam, rocking out to his headphones as he scrambled eggs on the stove. 

He was white, and probably around five foot eight in stocking feet, slim built with short, curling brown hair. He wore green sweatpants and a gray t shirt and whatever it was he was dancing to, he was pretty good at it, wiggling his firm little ass all over the kitchen. He turned to transfer the eggs and bacon to a plate, saw Sam, and let out a terrified yelp. 

“Who the hell are you?” he demanded, brandishing his spatula like a weapon. 

“Hey, you first,” Sam retorted, struggling to get his breath back. 

“Get out of my house before I call the cops, ” the other guy said . 

“The burglar's gonna call the cops on _me_?” Sam reached for his phone from the pocket of his running hoodie. 

“I'll just tell them a strange sweaty homeless guy -”

“Hey!” Sam snapped, “I pay way too much money for a very nice apartment in Brooklyn-”

“- broke into my parents house-”

Wait. Oh crap. Steve had these photos back at his apartment, of himself with a younger boy and a little girl. He actually talked about Bucky and Becca a lot, but Sam had, for some reason, assumed they were still the same age they were in the photos. This guy was _not_ twelve. 

“You're Steve's-”

“Brother, yeah. Bucky. ”

“You guys don't look much alike,” Sam said lamely. 

Bucky sighed, and leaned back on the counter. 

“Because we're step brothers,” he explained. 

“Step brothers.”

“Yess... _my dad_ is married to _his mom_ only we don't have any DNA in common.” He sounded the perfect amount of put-upon, rolling his large brown eyes. 

“I _know what a step parent is_ ,” Sam said. “Steve said the house would be empty this weekend.”

“Steve doesn't know everything. I needed a break, okay? I didn't think anyone else was here.”

“But you found the eggs,” Sam snorted. “Who did you think left them in the fridge, the breakfast food fairy?” 

“Yeah, well, who are you anyway, Sweaty Stranger Dude?” 

“Sam Wilson. I'm Steve's friend. He let me come out here to study for my med school exam. It's your house, I can't kick you out but can I _please_ get some peace and quiet?” 

“I swear I won't bother you,” Bucky said. Then he gave Sam a charming smile, and shrugged one shoulder. “You hungry?


	2. Chapter 2

Bucky took no more than forty five minutes to break his promise. First, he used up all the hot water for his lengthy morning shower. Sam had done two tours in Afghanistan, it took more than that to make him snap. Bucky liked to slam the cupboards and the back door as he moved from room to room. Sam's mother would have said "in or out, pick one" and sent him to the park with a Capri Sun. But Bucky had been arguing with someone named Toro for a half an hour on his phone, in a voice which was loud enough to carry but not for Sam to make out what Bucky was actually talking about. Whatever it was, it was distressing for Bucky and distracting for Sam, he started wanting to _know_ what they were talking about. Even though it would probably turn out to be some ridiculous teenage drama about a girl they wouldn't remember five years from now, or a debate about how to score pot, Sam strained to hear the conversation. 

“AAAGGGGHHH!” 

Sam looked up from his notes to see Bucky in the backyard, kicking a lawn chair into the pool. The back door slammed. Bucky appeared in the living room doorway. 

“Can I have one of those beers you bought?”

“I'm glad you asked 'cause I believe in honest communication between kids and adults but no,” Sam said.

“Will you let me drive your car? My friend Toro dropped me off and he's not coming back til tomorrow night and I wanna go to town.” 

“Are you going into town to buy beer?” Sam asked wearily. 

“...Maaayybe,” Bucky admitted. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I know a place where they don't card.”

Sam rested his pen on the coffee table. 

“You seem upset. Drinking isn't going to make you feel any better. Talking about it will, and if you need to talk, we can talk, but after I'm finished reviewing these chapters.”

“There's nothing going on,” Bucky snapped. “I just want some booze.”

“If you don't need my help, then _stop bugging me_ ,” Sam said. Bucky glared at him, let out an angry grunt and stormed off. The rest of the morning continued in that vein. Bucky kicked all but one lawn chair in the pool. He ran the blender. He left all the windows open. He paraded past the window in a swimsuit, and did push ups and stretches (gloriously distracting workouts featuring a body for which the word “nubile” had been invented, which caused Sam to forget all about his textbooks and his future as a doctor) while blaring Fall Out Boy, even though he had headphones he could have been using. The music was so loud _Sam's_ headphones were almost useless. He stomped out to the pool, where Bucky was slowly and lazily rubbing himself down with sunscreen. His bare skin shimmered with it. 

Sam grabbed Bucky's music player and turned it off. 

“Hey!” Bucky gasped, even though he had to have known he was provoking Sam to do exactly that. 

“Next time, I throw _this_ in the pool,” Sam said.

When he came out to the kitchen three hours later to grab a protein bar, there were three empty beer bottles in the trash. Well, at least the brat knew how to pace himself. 

“BUCKY BARNES!”

“ _What_?” Bucky drawled., lounging in the doorway (now thankfully covered up on top with a dark blue hoodie that did wonderful things with his coloring). Sam grabbed his keys and his phone, and started shoving his feet in his running shoes. 

" What is wrong with you? Stupid frigging kid. Grow.Up!” 

Sam set off on a brisk jog down the beach, loving the cold snap of the March wind on his face and the calming crash of the ocean. He waved at a cute young couple playing Frisbee with their puppy. He thought about where he might buy lunch. If this town had a library and it was open in the off season, maybe he'd study there instead. 

“Sam! Sam! Wait!” Bucky was running after him, he'd nearly caught up. Sam sighed. 

“What, kid?”

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be annoying. Don't be mad.”

“I'm not mad, Bucky,” Sam said. “But you can't tell other people not to be mad, they have to decide that on their own. And if someone says they need space, you need to give them space, okay?”

“But I -” Bucky stepped forward a few paces, and paused, his face twisted up in agony. 

“Bucky? You okay?” Sam hurried over, concerned. 

“Uh huh.” His face was drawn and pale. “I uh stepped on a shell. It's okay.”

“Sit on this rock and lift your foot.” Bucky obeyed, Sam removed Bucky's shoe to inspect his bare foot. It was strangely intimate, holding Bucky's surprisingly soft foot, with Bucky so trusting in his hands. Sam reminded himself sternly that he was a Health Care Professional. “It's not so bad, at least there's no shell pieces to pick out. Hey, let me help you back to the house. You guys got a first aid kit?”

“Yeah, but I'm fine, I can walk back on my own,” Bucky insisted. Blood stained the inside of his boat shoe. Oh no, no, Sam was not putting up with that. 

“Bucky. Let me help you.” Bucky gave in and let Sam hook an arm around his waist and they hobbled together back to the porch. 

“Don't carry me though,” Bucky said. 

“Do I look like I can carry you that far? You're light but I'm not Steve.” He did have to briefly lift Bucky over the steps, Bucky was warm and his lightly muscular body fit perfectly in Sam's arms. Bucky's face was flushed by the time Sam carefully deposited him in a lawn chair. 

“Stay put,” Sam ordered. 

“Yes, _Dad_.” Bucky smirked up at him through the pain. 

“Don't sass me, kiddo.”

“Or what, you'll spank me?” 

“Maybe I would,” Sam retorted. Bucky stuck his tongue out at him, and Sam fled the conversation before it went further down that road. It was an intriguing image of his own hand leaving red palm prints on that peaches and cream skin, and a tempting thought. He grabbed a damp washcloth, Neosporin, a thick bandage, and a couple of Aleve. On the way back to the porch, he poured a frosty glass of the hibiscus iced tea he'd made earlier, shoving a straw through a lemon wedge. 

“Drink this.” Bucky took the pain relievers and sipped his tea while Sam cleaned and bandaged his cut. And then he said, for some reason, “There, all better now,” like Bucky was five. Bucky looked up at him with a sweetly grateful expression that tried to be something else, something tougher and "I don't give a fuck", and Sam was unexpectedly touched. 

Bucky spent the afternoon installed on the couch, watching tv, Sam studied in Steve's room (where he had been sleeping, he couldn't bring himself to take over the master bedroom). He peeked in to check on Bucky every hour or so, and once to help him limp to the bathroom and back. 

“Whatcha watching?” Sam asked. He perched on the arm of the couch.

“ Top Chef.”

“You really like cooking, don't you. The breakfast you made was really good, by the way.”

“I guess I'm okay at it,” Bucky replied shyly. “It's useful and I like making people feel good.”

“Are you in culinary school?” Sam asked. 

“ _Kind of_. My dad let me take some courses after I signed up for ROTC too. Now, “ he shrugged. “I want to do what would have made him proud.”

“You don't owe your family to give up on your dreams,” Sam said. 

“Right,” Bucky said. “I guess I could be a cook in the Army.”

“No, what I'm saying is,” Sam sighed gently, “You don't have to be a soldier at all if you would rather be a chef.” 

“But _everyone_ in my family was Army, I mean, that's what we do, that's what we've always done, _we Army_.” 

“I'm just sayin', you don't seem thrilled.”

“What's your test about?” Bucky quickly changed the subject. 

“I'm in medical school and this is a big final,” Sam said. 

“So you're gonna be like, a surgeon?”

“ Nah, I want a nice quiet family practice. Want pizza for dinner?”I haven't felt like cooking since I got here.” 

“I can cook,” Bucky offered.

“Yeah, no, I don't want you standing on that foot yet. What do you like on your pizza?”

“Can we get everything?”

“Every extra topping costs like forty more cents, Bucky. Can you just pick two?”

“I want Hawaiian,” Bucky said. "That'll go good with beer, right?" 

"Don't you touch those last three beers, Barnes. Don't you dare." 


	3. Chapter 3

“I didn't mean to call you a stupid kid, earlier,” Sam said as he and Bucky boxed up the leftover pizza. They'd sat on the steps since there was only one dry chair left and it was too nice out to eat inside. “It's your house, I'm the guest.”

“Yeah, but I _am_ annoying,” Bucky replied. He sipped from an apple flavored Jones soda, his plush lips wrapped around the bottle, making Sam think really, really impure thoughts about other things they would be beautiful wrapped around. “How much do I owe you for the food anyway?”

“Uh, ten fifty for the pizza and the soda. And I want three dollars for the beer you drank.”

“I'll go get my wallet.” Bucky limped off. Sam took a long pull from one of the remaining beers he was hoarding on his own side of the patio table. Bucky was obviously capable of being well behaved, and Sam figured there was more going on behind the scenes, maybe he needed someone to listen. Bucky came back and shoved a handful of crumpled, grubby bills in his hand. 

“And I meant what I said, about if you need someone to talk to,” Sam said. “If there's stuff you can't tell Steve.”

“This is the third worst birthday I've ever had,” Bucky admitted. “My mom's gone, my dad's gone, Sarah's gone, Steve's deployed, he said we would talk on Skype but sometimes he can't get the time. My aunt invited Becca to spend the weekend but not me. They're going skiing in Vermont.”

“Well, that sucks,” Sam agreed. “Isn't the joke on them, though? There's no snow this year.”

“Oh, no, they have machines to make snow in Vermont,” Bucky explained. “They can't risk losing all that tourist money. Anyway, um, some stuff happened at college. It's gonna probably be bad if it comes out. It's probably already out. It was a sex thing and I don't know what to do. I don't wanna go back to school.”

“These things are never as bad as they seem,” Sam said. “You just need to get out in front of the problem and be honest with yourself and whoever else was involved. I know it's embarrassing to have that information out there in public but the kind of sex you like doesn't equal whether or not you're valuable or a good person.”

“But Steve's gonna be disappointed in me. Um, I don't think he knows I'm - that I kind of like guys now.”

“Yeah, well, Steve's kinda a prude,” Sam replied. Bucky was really cute when he laughed, a surprised gigglesnort which made him scrunch up his nose and gave Sam the urge to kiss the tip. And this cute guy was _into men_. 

“He is, though!” Bucky said. “Dude, he so _is_.”

“But he's not homophobic. He won't care about that part, whatever else you got yourself involved in. Don't be afraid to ask for help based on having to out yourself to him. ”

Oh, poor kid. Everyone discovers new things about themselves in their first year of college. Sam had been through his own period of Baby Queerness and Black Masculinity Angst with an awkward crush on his Biology lab partner and the terror of his family and church finding out. But Steve hadn't freaked when Sam came out to him, and he obviously doted on Bucky so he could comfortably promise Bucky acceptance and support from his big brother. 

“ And I know I'm not -it's not important but I turned 18 yesterday.”

“Oh, thank God!” Sam blurted out. Bucky raised a sardonic eyebrow. “I- this means I only have to deal with Steve punching me if he finds out, it's not like-” And he did not mean to sound unsympathetic to Bucky feeling abandoned on his birthday but there was light from Heaven and a gospel choir singing O Happy Day. 

“Illegal?” Bucky supplied. “I didn't know um, that you were gay. I hoped. I hoped you were flirting back? I think you're hot.”

“I'm bi.”

“Me too,” Bucky said. “I think.” And then he added, fixing Sam with an absolutely filthy expression, “ I took so long in the shower cause I was thinking about you.”

“Oh?” Sam chuckled. “What do you want, Bucky? Hmm?” He spread his legs just a little, watching Bucky's eyes follow the movement eagerly. “You've been teasing me since you got here.”


	4. Chapter 4

“You can let me go down,” Bucky said, shuffling forward to his knees in front of the patio chair, between Sam's spread thighs, pulling Sam's hardening cock out of his shorts. Oh yes, yesyesyes. Sam's heart sped up as Bucky took him in between his pouty lips. Bucky's mouth was hot, and wet, inexpert but making up for it with enthusiasm, Sam's brain kept shorting out with pleasure. He stroked Bucky's cheek, feeling the shape of himself in Bucky's mouth, marveling at the contrast between their skin tones. 

Bucky desperately moaned something around Sam's cock. Sam finally figured out what Bucky was trying to say, he was calling Sam _“daddy”_ over and over. Daddy Daddydaddy. And _that_ was way hotter than Sam had ever thought it could be. When Bucky looked right up at him with those big brown eyes and said it again, Sam went off _hard_. 

“Sorry!” he panted automatically at Bucky's surprised expression. He'd gotten some of it on Bucky's face, even though Bucky had gamely tried to swallow, he was no porn star. “Hey.” Sam wiped Bucky's face with a handful of the napkins that had come with the pizza delivery. Then he pulled Bucky up and kissed him lightly even though he didn't enjoy the taste of his own come, because Bucky didn't deserve to be rejected right after doing something so nice, Sam had been raised to be a _gentleman_ thank you very much. 

“You need to drink some water and spit, 's okay,” Sam added. Bucky shook his head. He wasn't that hard, either but his body language was loose and relaxed, and snuggly. “What ever you want, Imma give it to you, because damn.”

“A beer?”

“No, you had three already when I said you couldn't have any.”

Bucky smirked into Sam's shirt. 

“ _You're so bossy_. I like it.”

Bossy? Sam had gone out of his way his whole life to be the opposite of bossy, to be non threatening, a nurturer and a peacemaker, even his Air Force career had consisted more of patching people up than putting hurt on them. But Bucky didn't seem to be aiming for a rough kind of in charge, just guidance in the right direction and a little comfort, why not just go with it, and see where it ended up? 

“Look at me, baby boy.” 

Bucky peeked up at him hopefully. 

“First thing is, we're gonna put the food away. Then we're gonna try things out, see where they go, okay? And you'll tell me if I'm doin' anything you don't like or you're not ready for. You hear me?”

“Uh huh.”

“No, not 'uh huh'.” Sam adopted a more forceful tone. “Yes, or no.”

“Yes, Daddy.” 

Sam shivered. Okay. Yes. They were going there, it felt totally natural to go there with Bucky for some reason. Sam let Bucky go in first, so the kid didn't hear the wincing grunt he made under his breath as he got up from the chair and his back twinged like some sort of old person. This never helped the feeling that he was _older_ than his peers who had led different lives. Back inside, Bucky took care of the Tupperwares full of pizza, while Sam rinsed out the bottles and dropped them in the recycling. He smacked Bucky lightly on his ass in passing, thrilling to his new permission to touch Bucky all over. 

“Gonna need condoms,” Sam said. “Whatever we do. Should've had them out on the porch.”

“Maybe my parents had some? Or- Steve?” They both paused to consider the possibility that Steve might actually have a girlfriend. 

“That Sharon chick?” Bucky hazarded a guess. That tall blonde woman with some mysterious government job who lived in Steve's building, that sounded about right. And Steve would definitely use a condom to prevent the creation of any giant Aryan babies. 

“You mind if I look?” Sam asked.

“Go ahead.” 

Neither of the pastel, sea shell adorned bathrooms had any. Nor did Steve's room, where Sam had been sleeping, which was, with all of its handmade Americana and shelves full of old science fiction and fantasy books, a perfect time capsule of how teenage Steve Rogers would decorate a room. Sam did not check Becca's room, because he couldn't deal with the disillusionment if he actually found what he was looking for. George and Sarah's room had clearly been barely touched since their deaths. There was a thin layer of dust on the dresser. The bed was still made, the closet was empty except for two bathrobes, a pair of men's rubber flip flops and a Petite sized one piece swimsuit which still had a tag on it from TJ Maxx. She never got to wear it. But bless George Barnes' practical soul, he'd hidden a condom in the night stand. 

Sam headed for the stairs, tossing the condom up in the air and catching it casually- until it flew out of his hand and landed three steps down. Sam bent to pick it up, and the awkward position caused him to tumble forward, just barely catching himself by grabbing the banister. Flames of pain shot up his back as it spasmed again. He bit back a howl of pain. Sam breathed through the pain, limping to the front hall, trying to pull himself together before he had a damn flashback or something. 

Bare feet hesitantly padded up behind him. 

“You okay?”

“Bucky, I can't right now.” Sam gritted his teeth. 

“You're Sam. It's March 11th, 2016 , it's 8 pm and you're on Long Island. Can I touch you?”

Sam nodded and felt Bucky's hands gently rubbing his back. How could Sam say no after that sweetly Innocent response? And it did feel wonderful having Bucky touch him so carefully. After a few moments of silence, Bucky asked 

“Were you in the war like Steve?”

“ Para rescue in Afghanistan. Air Force.” Headed into his sophomore year in college when those planes hit the Twin Towers. He and Steve had become fast, and close, friends on a mission coordinating between Army and Air Force testing an experimental weapon. When Sam had been discharged due to injury, and struggled with rehabilitation and therapy, they'd simply kept in contact, discovering that they both lived in adjacent Brooklyn neighborhoods. Now, they'd apparently passed from “share my beach house” close to “I hooked up with your brother” close. Sam did not need that _guilt_ on top of everything else.

Bucky helped him to the couch, then came back with a glass of the iced tea for him. 

“There was still Don't Ask, Don't Tell then, right?”

“Yeah. It was complicated. You're lucky, kid, you don't have to worry about that,” Sam said. And there were talks about lifting the ban on trans soldiers too. And it's not like he was resentful that it was easier for Bucky, just, it would've been nice to nearly die for a country which acknowledged his right to openly admit to his sexuality in the workplace. Instead of waiting until he was out to change their minds. 

“Yeah, but I _fraternized_ with an instructor,” Bucky admitted.

“ _God_. That was a dumbass move,” Sam said. His back hurt, so he said it anyway even though it was mean and Bucky was hiding his face and flushed with embarrassment. 

“There's a video of it, and my whole class and probably half the school saw it. He made sure I'm the only one whose face is in the shot,” Bucky said glumly. “I was really drunk.” Then, at the look of dawning horror on Sam's face, “Oh, no, it wasn't like that! I was slightly-bad - choices - drunk, not like, I coulda said no, I just didn't want to, I liked that someone was paying attention to me. I knew he was recording, too, it was only after I said I didn't wanna hook up again that he uploaded it.” 

Sam _literally facepalmed_. He wasn't going to tell anyone else how to feel, if Bucky thought the only thing his teacher had done wrong was share the video, Sam was not going to argue with him. But from the adult perspective, Bucky's desperate need for attention had probably made it easy to practically brain wash him into doing anything for the guy. And Sam doubted that had been an innocent mistake. 

“You know, that's why the rule exists,” Sam said. “Just because you give a seventeen year old a gun and point him at a target, it doesn't mean -”

“Yeah, I know,” Bucky snapped. “I _know_. Look, I-”

“I know, dummy,” Sam said and punched him lightly on the bicep. The things you say when you're both feeling raw and vulnerable don't matter. “Wanna see what's on On Demand? Because I am right in the middle of The People Vs OJ Simpson-” 

“STEVE!” Bucky cried, launching himself off the couch. Sam's big blond friend dropped his army duffle by the door. He still looked effortlessly awesome in the way Steve always managed even though he'd probably just got off a long flight crammed into a military transport plane after whatever godawfully dangerous mission he'd been on. 

“Happy Birthday, buddy.” Steve swept Bucky up and spun him around like a helicopter while Bucky shrieked joyfully “Oof. You're so heavy now, must be all that PT.” 

“Sam, Steve's here!” 

“Hey Steve,” Sam said. _Cockblocker_. “Glad you made it. We got pizza and beer left.”


	5. Chapter 5

“So what were you guys up to? You getting along?” And Sam loved Steve, he really did but Steve was on his third piece of pizza and the last bottle of beer. Sam was going to be out of leftovers and would have to go to the store again. His study schedule was all fucked up now. 

“Sam fell down the stairs,” Bucky said . His expression was completely deadpan but his eyes sparkled and his lips twitched. 

“Dude!” Sam exclaimed. “You little brat.” Steve cracked up and slapped Sam on the shoulder. 

“Need a medic, Doctor Wilson?” he asked. 

“I'm fine, I mean, I'll be able to get up in a minute.” 

Buck hurried and got him the bottle of painkillers, not Sam's prescription but it would get him to mobile for now. He chugged down the rest of the iced tea along with two pills. 

“I wouldn't have been able to forgive myself if I missed your birthday,” Steve said to his brother. “Especially after I heard what Ida did to you.”

“No, it's-it's okay- I mean, I missed you but-” Bucky tried to say. 

“And you didn't even get a cake,” Steve added. 

“It's okay,” Bucky said. “I brought a mix.”

“No!” Steve and Sam both blurted out at the same time.

“You are not baking your own birthday cake and definitely not from a mix,” Sam snapped. Steve glanced at him, eyebrow raised as if to say _I know why I care but why do you?_

“Sam's right, we're going to a restaurant tomorrow. And we're also gonna talk about how I showed up at the college to surprise you and _you weren't there_.”

They didn't stay up much later, Steve was tired and Sam and Bucky were a pair of banged up walking disasters. Sam moved his things into George and Sarah's room, figuring he was the one who'd be the least emotionally affected by having to sleep in there. He watched his shows on Hulu on the laptop until his eyes drooped. The last thought he had was of Bucky, in the next room, in bed, alone, while Sam had this big double bed all to himself.

Sam woke to the sound of excited adolescent male chatter and the thump of a basketball on the driveway. And sometimes, against the side of the house. Awesome. He dressed carefully, stretching to test for any lingering pain, then took a hot shower for as long as he felt like it, hoping he'd get Bucky back for leaving him with a cold one yesterday. He found Steve in the kitchen, stuffing his face with a breakfast Bucky had probably made, since Steve could barely toast a Pop Tart. 

THUMP

“What's shakin, Eggs'n Bacon?” Sam asked cheerily. 

“Jet lag,” Steve replied.

“Figured you got used to that eventually,” Sam said. “Like your internal clock gets better at regulating itself?”

“Well, it's not working on me today,” Steve said. “But then, I'm not like you, Flyboy, planes just take me to missions.” 

THUMP

“Oh my God!” Steve snapped. He stabbed his eggs with a fork. Sam filled a plate, and joined him at the table with a mug of coffee. 

“Aren't teenagers supposed to like sleeping in?” Sam wondered. “Where are they getting the energy?”

“Don't ask me,” Steve said. “Toro was here when I woke up. His guardian has a summer place up the street,he's been popping in and mooching food off us since he was too short to reach the doorbell.”

“Bucky says Toro drove him here from school.”

“Wouldn't put it past them,” Steve said. Bucky and Toro burst in, sweaty and laughing, to grab bottled waters. Bucky playfully shoulder checked Sam. 

“Should you be running around on that foot?” Steve asked. Bucky shrugged. 

“What if Sam pushes me around in Dad's office chair?” He suggested. He chugged water, Sam watched his Adam's Apple move, enthralled at the drops of water on his lips. 

“Okay, I'll do it for an hour,” Sam said. They played against Steve and Toro, it was the most fun he'd had all week. When he got back to studying, it was with a much clearer mind. 

In the evening, they all drove into town in Steve's car for a real birthday dinner for Bucky at Boom Burger, an independent burger and chicken wing joint with a superhero comics theme. They stopped at a local bakery and picked up a small chocolate birthday cake, which they ate sitting on the porch back at the Barnes cottage.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve said when they were on their way upstairs to bed, “How about we go out and do something, just the two of us tomorrow, let Sam get some work done? And talk about your skipping school too.”

“Okay,” Bucky laughed. “Sorry I got in your way, Sam.”

“You're not in my way, Bucky,” Sam said. He looked down and smiled as he turned the doorknob to his room. “I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.tripadvisor.com/Restaurant_Review-g48873-d3613472-Reviews-Atomic_Wings_at_Boom_Burger-Westhampton_Beach_Long_Island_New_York.html
> 
> Boom Burger is real although I've never been there.


	6. Chapter 6

Sam lay in bed watching episodes of a 70s sitcom. The incompetent old man who was the main character's boss had just uttered the punchline of the episode , “As God is my witness, I thought turkeys could fly!” when Sam heard the faintest click of the doorknob turning. Bucky hovered in the doorway in nothing but his drawers. 

“What's up, Lil' Man?” Sam paused the video, moving his computer to the nightstand. He knew what was up, they were being drawn toward each other like magnets. 

“I had a bad dream,” Bucky whispered hoarsely. Sam hardened under the sheets in response to the bulge he saw in Bucky's shorts. Bucky's eyes widened.

“C'mere and let Daddy take care of it,” Sam said, stretching out his arm. Bucky padded over and crawled beneath the sheet,up against Sam's body, pressing eager kisses to his lips. Sam returned the kisses, exploring Bucky's firm body with his hands like he'd wanted to do since Bucky had teased him out by the pool. Bucky hitched his thigh around Sam's waist, making it easier to grind their aching hard ons together and Sam cupped Bucky's sweet little booty, giving it light smacks as Bucky's hips undulated. It was all instinct, no technique, just satisfying an animal urge to rub off on each other until they came in their shorts. 

“Think you can sleep better now?” Sam asked. They kissed lazily while they recovered their breath. 

“Yes, Daddy. Um, I'll go back to my own-”  
Sam caught his arm gently.

“You can stay,” Sam interjected. Please stay. He hadn't spent the whole night with someone since the first serious relationship he'd tried to have after leaving the Air Force. “If you don't mind I don't sleep so great either.”

In the morning, Bucky was gone. He'd made his half of the bed like he'd never been there at all. It might have been a dream, except for the underwear balled up on the floor on Sam's side. Sam pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a tank top and wandered down to the kitchen to see what delicious things might be cooking. 

“Hey, stud.” Bucky greeted him by reaching over the center island to plant a good morning kiss on his mouth. He was gloriously naked and eating donuts from a bakery box. Sam's heart skipped. Why couldn't Bucky just play fair for once? 

“Where'd those come from?” Sam asked. The kitchen was a little chilly, Bucky's pointed, exposed nipples were pebbled with goosebumps and Sam wondered how long Bucky had been waiting around on display. 

“Steve got them. Chocolate Cinnamon Buns. Which is, by the way, how I'm gonna think of you now.”

“Aight, Vanilla Puddin'.” Sam stuffed a pastry in his mouth. “Wherth Stheve go?”

“ _Stheve_ left a note before I got up, he's running on the beach. We have two hours?” Bucky was not successfully able to hide the fear of rejection mixed in with the hope in his voice.

“Run on upstairs.” Sam followed, taking a detour to find the condom in the pocket of his pants from yesterday. It started as kissing, slow and careful, different from the urgency of the night before, Sam wanted Bucky to get a tasting menu of everything on offer. They must have spent a half hour just kissing each other all over. They made each other come with their hands, and their mouths, taking it further and further each time. Sam was never going to get tired of the noises Bucky made during orgasms.

“Sam?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I want you to fuck me,” Bucky said. He bit his lip anxiously. 

“I hoped you'd say that,” Sam replied. He reached for the condom, Bucky rolled over on his stomach, awkwardly parting his thighs. His pink hole peeked out from between cream colored cheeks. Sam petted his trembling back. His own cock surged painfully toward that welcoming slit. 

“Bucky? C'mon or we'll be late for the boat launch!” Steve yelled up the stairs. 

DAMMNIT STEVEN G ROGERS!


	7. Chapter 7

Bucky sent him a picture from the boat. The first photo was of a pair of large blue ball shaped buoys and was captioned “Me Right Now.”

Sam typed “How did you get my number?”

Bucky replied “I told Steve I wanted to send you pics.” In the next one, Bucky was holding up a mackerel and making duck face at the camera. Another (super distracting one) featured Bucky seductively mouthing at a Popsicle. Sam managed to get a surprising amount of studying done despite being interrupted with text messages and photos almost every hour for half the day. Bucky went strangely silent by the afternoon, though. 

And when Bucky and Steve returned later that afternoon, only Steve came directly inside. 

“Where's Bucky?” Sam asked, following his friend to the kitchen. Steve began retrieving ingredients and pans for frying up the fish. Steve gestured with his huge chin out the window. Bucky was sitting crosslegged down by the water, huddled small in his sweatpants and hoodie. The Loneliest Teenager in the World. “He seems...low energy,” Sam said diplomatically. 

“He came clean about why he's here instead of at school,” Steve said. “It was a rough conversation.”

“He thought you'd be angry when you found out - that you'd hate him.”

“I'm not upset that he's gay,” Steve said. “You know I never would be. I'll adjust my parenting course, and I never meant to give him any impression I'd have a problem with it. I'm not angry at him either, for what happened. It's not his fault some creepy grownup convinced him to do things he regrets now, when he wasn't really in his right mind, then humiliated him in front of the whole school.”

“He thinks it happened because he tried to break up with the guy. But you and I both know-”

“Buck was the only one who thought they were dating,” Steve finished. “ Asshole probably pics a freshman every year to prey on and keeps the tapes as blackmail to get sex on demand.” 

“Is he going to get kicked out of the program?” Sam asked. He grabbed some juice glasses and the leftover paper plates from the pizza. 

“Not if I have anything to say about it. Bucky was underage when it happened, and with a teacher who knew a minor had been served alcohol. Bet I can get that guy on the hook for possession and distribution of child porn too, 'specially if he has a whole collection of videos. A stretch? Don't care, he's going down for this. I'm making sure that Sergeant Rumlow is the one who won't be allowed back on campus.” Steve flipped the fish, added a pinch of salt and pepper. 

“Rumlow, huh? He got a first name?” Sam grumbled. He was itching to get his hands around that guy's throat. 

“Sam, I know you and Bucky have something going on but let me handle this. I'm Bucky's guardian. Plus, I can walk in there and get everything I want from them because I'm 'Captain America' and I have amazing lawyers."

“How did you know about me and Bucky?” Sam wanted to disappear when Steve turned that smirking face on him. 

“Uh, did you two honestly think you were being quiet? I knew you guys were hooking up two days before Bucky admitted he's into guys.” 

“Are you okay with that?” Sam asked,gulping hard. “I'm older than him. And I'm- does it matter that I'm black?” Sometimes friends who came off as totally open minded changed their minds when he wanted to date their relatives. He squared his shoulders, ready to fight. “Cause if it does, this friendship is over.”

Steve smiled, thumped him on the shoulder.

“Sammy. If I had to pick a guy for Bucky, I'd want the man I have literally trusted with my life. All I've ever wanted for Bucky's love life is that he finds someone who makes him happy. I never had criteria for what they look like. Just, please don't try to convert him.”

“Into what, a Methodist?” 

“Into joining the Air Force!” Steve laughed. 

“I'm going to see if our _future pilot_ is hungry,” Sam snarked. Sam trudged down the beach to where Bucky was slumped. He sat beside Bucky in the cold wet sand.

“Hey,” Bucky mumbled. 

“Steve's almost done fryin' up the fish.”

“Okay.”

“You'll be less sad if you eat. You want something else? Chinese? McDonald's? ”

Bucky flopped over, laying his head in Sam's lap.

“I want to not keep fucking up my whole life.”

“Look, you didn't,” Sam said. He stroked Bucky's soft brown hair. “Even if your brother can't fix this, you'll just change schools and consider maybe trying a non military career. It's not the end of the world, I don't care how much of an Army legacy you have to live up to. I worked for the VA to put myself through med school when I got back and let me tell you, don't sign your life away if you're not one hundred percent sure that's what you wanna do. I'm probably not supposed to tell you that but after what I seen, I'd rather have Happy Bucky with All His Limbs. I think Steve and Becca would agree with me.”

... Bucky's smile when he tipped his head up to look at Sam should not have been that heartbreakingly surprised.

“If I eat all my dinner can we finish what we started this morning?” 

“You just give me the green light when you're ready,” Sam said. “Cause I've been waiting all day.”

“Sam,” Bucky whispered on the way out of the kitchen after Steve's excellent fish fry, “I'm gonna brush my teeth and -you can come to my room?”

“Go put on your little pjs,” Sam said. He shot Bucky with a look that he hoped communicated _or don't because I'm going to rip them off you anyway_. Bucky grinned, and ran off. Of course, Sam didn't know what he was going to do about protection, he'd lost the condom, and he worried it would be crossing a creepy boundary to ask Steve if he had one in order to fuck his little brother. 

Steve passed him on the way out the door with a pair of full trash bags. 

“I bought a whole strip of them for him,” Steve said airily. “And some earplugs for myself.”

“Where are you going now?” Sam asked. 

“To read on the porch for like three hours.”  
And then Bucky was waiting for him in his bedroom with a hopeful smile. And Bucky opened right up to him, accepting patient instruction on how to ride his cock, Sam thought he'd never get sick of how Bucky felt inside or what Bucky looked and sounded like when he came in Sam's lap, scratching Sam's shoulders with his short nails.

“Can I call you? I mean when we go home?” Bucky asked, curled up under his arm.

“Call me whenever, for any reason,” Sam murmured. “ You'll see me whenever you visit Steve. Unless, you wanna move to Brooklyn?” 

“I think I should go back and face my problems first,” Bucky replied sleepily. “But the semester ends in two months. We could be together for the whole entire summer. Here in the beach house.”


End file.
